


Resurrection

by Adams_Riddle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus and Kingsley make a pretty good detective duo, Harry gets put in a cage, M/M, Monster Voldemort, Voldemort can only speak parseltongue, Voldemort is part-basilisk, Voldemort's Resurrection, for the monsterfuckers out there, little hangleton gets raided af, translator!Harry, unhealthy ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29431221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adams_Riddle/pseuds/Adams_Riddle
Summary: Voldemort's resurrection after the Third Task goes a little differently than planned, and now he's part basilisk. As a result, he's a little more ruled by his instincts, and Harry has no chance against him. Enemies to unhealthily attached Captor/Kidnapped relationship. Rated M to be safe.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 22
Kudos: 158





	Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> My weekend project has been Monster-mort haha, I hope you enjoy this! This really is one for the Monsterfuckers out there honestly. Keep an eye on the date as you read, as there are some moments when we go forward in time, then backwards. Also, I totally made a playlist of songs for this fic that I listened to while writing so if you want to, go to this link https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PL1ul7T5iWeBDSOuJzVi8IFEpTzjq8Lmvd
> 
> Shout-out to GeMerope for grammar-checking and generally proofreading this! Many thanks, my friend.

_24th June 1995_

The reaction within the cauldron was getting far hotter than anyone could have guessed, creating an eerie glow in the misty cemetery. Wormtail, coward that he was, dove for cover, leaving Harry tied to the gravestone of Tom Riddle Sr, facing the fireball that was now melting the cauldron down. With the metal gone, the contents of the cauldron now lifted into the air, a metamorphosis of bone, sinew and fluids snapping into place to form something new. There was a rushing sound, someone was screaming and the heat was searing Harry alive - he struggled to get away, belatedly realised that it was he who was screaming - then it all stopped.

Harry thought he’d gone deaf in the resulting silence, the cold rushed in as the night air reasserted itself. In the gloom and mist, _something_ was stirring. Neither Wormtail nor Voldemort’s snake Nagini were anywhere to be seen, perhaps they had fled at the sound of a large scaled form dragging over the grass and knocking down the gravestones around them with its sheer bulk. Harry squinted desperately into the mist, white scales easily the size of his fists on a tail that had to be easily as tall as a man as it slithered by with alarming speed.

Unbidden, Harry gasped, and cursed when the sounds of movement paused.

“ _Finite Nebulus_ ,” rasped a high, cold voice. Immediately, the fog began to clear and Harry stared up at Voldemort’s new form in horror: The man appeared to be half man, half snake - though the only snake Harry had ever seen of this size had been the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. The tail was, as he had glimpsed, stark white, and perhaps fifteen to twenty feet in length from where Voldemort’s hips should be. The tail connected to an almost skeletal torso, it was hard to guess how tall with the Dark Lord hovering high above him - the next thing Harry noticed was the man’s arms, twice the length of Harry’s own, and long spidery fingers that were feeling their way over the new body Voldemort had been resurrected into.

Harry’s face heated at the intimate motions, and instead looked upwards, finally witnessing the face which would haunt the nightmares of witches and wizards across the country. Blood red eyes, no hint of white to be seen and slitted pupils. High cheekbones, two slits where the nose should be and a mouth that was more a maw - his mouth seemed to start at one side of his face and end at the other side, and as if sensing Harry watching, a slitted tongue snaked out to taste the air. Harry spotted fangs in the brief moment the lipless mouth parted.

It had only been moments since the two beings had spotted each other, Voldemort stooped low to look Harry in the eye, triumph gleaming from those unnatural eyes.

“ _Potter_ ,” he hissed, “ _You have returned me to a body greater than even I could have dreamed, I am uncertain whether to reward you or to kill you where you stand - on the grave of my filthy_ _ **muggle**_ _father.”_

Harry stilled even further at the parseltongue, a sound so low and sibilant that it vibrated through his entire body. Voldemort’s tongue peeked out again, flicking towards Harry, who remembered that this was how snakes smelled the air around them normally. The Dark Lord tilted his head, and eyes fixated on the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead.

“ _I wonder…”_ Voldemort reached out, and Harry flinched at the long razor-like nails so close to his face, “ _Yes, I believe… I can touch you now.”_

The freezing part-flesh, part-scale finger pressed to Harry’s head and dark, triumphant magic washed over Harry. Instead of pain as he had expected, pleasure exploded from that point of contact, and Harry moaned desperately in fear and euphoria.

Voldemort withdrew to his full height, smirking widely.

“ _Wormtail! My wand_ ,” he commanded, and Harry watched Voldemort’s expression twist in fury when the man didn’t respond. The words spoken had the tell-tale hissing quality of parseltongue, and Harry wondered why Voldemort did not use English instead if he wanted to command the rat-like man.

“ _Wormtail! Nagini_?” Voldemort called out, half in rage, half… something else that Harry couldn’t identify. Nagini slithered forward around a nearby grave, and Harry was stunned that she seemed so small next to her master when she had seemed scarily large before.

“ _Master has returned_?” Nagini hissed. Voldemort looked down at her with fondness and coaxed her to climb up, her dark form wrapped around his strong lithe one.

“ _Yes pet, and stronger than ever. Where is the rat man_?” Voldemort asked her, stroking her head with obvious fondness.

“ _He hides behind the grave by the tree_ ,” Nagini pointed out for him, “ _He cannot Speak, so he hides_.”

Voldemort considered this with a troubled expression, realising his predicament. He suddenly lowered himself to Harry’s level again, and clutched his face in those terrifying claws again. “ _Potter, call Wormtail here. In English_. _I require my wand_ _,_ ” he demanded, then withdrew to watch the far grave. Then, when Harry didn’t cooperate straight away, he loomed over him, teeth visible as a guttural growl threatened Harry into obedience.

“Wormtail!” Harry immediately called out, voice hoarse, “Wormtail, Voldemort wants his wand!”

Though Harry couldn’t see the man, he heard the shuffling of the rat who nearly sobbed as he held out the yew wand to the Dark Lord (though, Harry belatedly realised, the man had already done wandless magic with ease).

“ _Your arm_?” Voldemort hissed, (Harry repeated the request, trying to avoid the Dark Lord’s ire) and sneered at Wormtail, who offered the bloody stump of his arm in response. Voldemort hissed in displeasure and grabbed Wormtail by his bleeding arm, lifting him off of his feet easily. The man cried in pain and Harry was sure that the Death Eater had wet himself in fear.

“ _Your_ _ **other**_ _arm_ _,_ ” Voldemort specified, before dropping Wormtail to the ground. Harry winced at the cracking sound of Wormtail’s legs hitting the ground, it seemed unlikely that he’d escaped that fall without at least a broken ankle.

“The… the other one, he says,” Harry relayed, glad of the ropes holding him up now.

Trembling, Wormtail tore back his sleeve and offered his dark mark to Voldemort, who hissed in satisfaction, leaning down to stab his wand into the mark. Mere moments passed before the sky above them darkened with the impending apparition of a dozen Death Eaters. Harry deliriously wondered how they had been so well prepared to appear before Voldemort so quickly.

Those who had appeared did well to hide their fear at Voldemort’s monstrous appearance, and fell into a circle around the group in an order that Harry didn’t understand - there were gaps that seemed random, but he wasn’t so focused on that, as he was his -foe?- who it seemed was feeling pleased enough to not kill him at the moment.

“ _Potter, you_ _ **will**_ _continue to translate for me.”_ Voldemort ordered. Harry saw the group shiver, but nodded, willing to do so if it meant he would survive this. Voldemort began his speech, and Harry translated aloud for those who could not speak parseltongue.

“Thirteen long years it has been since we last stood together, my friends. Thirteen years. I am disappointed that not one of you tried to find me, not one of you followed the whispers that no doubt slithered their way to your ears. I am disappointed. Yet, here we all are to celebrate my revival, my return, for as you see I am stronger than ever!” Harry stuttered out, feeling a little faint and more than a little nauseous.

Before they could continue, one of the figures threw themselves forward, bowing low before Voldemort as he begged: “My lord, forgive us! Forgive us all! We are loyal! We have-”

“ _SILENCE!”_ Voldemort hissed loudly, and though they did not speak parseltongue, everyone understood the deadly tone. The Death Eater looked up, Voldemort brushed back the hood and hooked his hand into the man’s sandy hair, lifting him up to be eye-to-eye.

“You have a long way to go before you may address me again.” Harry translated, cringing at the man’s gasp of pain. Voldemort put him down and he scrambled back to his spot in the circle - not fast enough though, Voldemort hit him from behind with the cruciatus curse, and screams filled the clearing for ten seconds. The rest were silent when the man mumbled his apologies and stood up, trying to contain his trembling.

“I- I returned.” Wormtail bravely pointed out from his position on the ground near Harry’s feet.

“ _Out of fear! Not loyalty.”_ Voldemort turned his furious red gaze upon the rat, Wormtail flinched and looked to Harry who translated.

“Still, you returned, and have made my own glorious return possible. You have begun to repay the debt of thirteen years, and so, I will reward you.” Harry told Wormtail uncertainly. Voldemort waved his wand over the terrified man, and there was a snapping sound as his broken bones snapped back into place, and then a silvery fluid made its way through the air from Voldemort’s wand to the bleeding stump of Wormtail’s arm. It settled as a new hand, which the animagus stared at in fascination. Wormtail got to his feet and looked giddily at Harry, then struck out at the stone of the grave statue he was tied to - a chunk of stone broke off at the punch near Harry’s head.

Harry swallowed and shivered at the thought of what that hand could do to a skull.

“Th-thank you, my lord, most generous.” Wormtail bowed low and scuttled around to his place in the circle. Voldemort nodded, and then looked at Harry expectantly as he spoke once more.

“I see more empty spaces where our brothers and sisters are missing than I had hoped. Some, like my faithful Lestranges... still in Azkaban. Another loyally serves me from afar. One I fear has forsaken me forever, and the other, his loyalty is yet to be revealed… Nonetheless, you are here, my friends. Let us not forget, also, our guest of honour, whom you all thought had defeated me those many years ago: Harry Potter.” The attention, which had been on Harry anyway as he translated, intensified, making Harry tense up, hating every word he repeated.

“Young Harry here, who survived my curse by… old magic, magic I should have foreseen. Circumstances that shall never be repeated. However, perhaps we should show the boy leniency now that he has also helped me rise?” Harry posed the question to the group and looked up at Voldemort with a question in his gaze. “He succeeded in winning the Triwizard Tournament and has faced me bravely more than once. Shall we grant him the opportunity to join us, my followers?”

Harry sagged down as some of the group laughed, they jeered at him. Harry felt small and his mind raced as he tried to think of a way out of this.

“ _Voldemort, surely_ _,_ _if you truly wish for me to join you, you will release me from the confines here and heal me as you did for Wormtail?”_ Harry tried in parseltongue, hoping to keep the negotiations secret. Let the Death Eaters think whatever they would, he already knew they feared the sound of the language.

“ _Daring boy, I see why Gryffindor is your house._ ” Voldemort replied, “ _I shall grant you this, but I hope you know how outmatched you are, should you try to run. My generosity will only go this far.”_

Voldemort’s magic brushed over him like an embrace, healing not only the cut Wormtail had made to collect his blood, but other injuries he’d gotten in the maze from the Third Task. After, the ropes disappeared, and Harry stumbled as he stood on his own feet for the first time in at least an hour.

The Death Eaters stood ready with their wands on him in a second. Harry wasn’t even sure where his wand was, and his heart pounded in his chest. He could see Cedric’s body a little way beyond the clearing as well as the portkey that had brought them to the graveyard. A shame there were thirteen Death Eaters, Nagini, and Voldemort between him and it.

“ _Thank you,”_ Harry hissed, eyes flicking to each person around him, and Voldemort and the cup beyond them. Voldemort smiled with all of his teeth and moved, coiling loosely around Harry as a wordless threat - the boy was a little too obvious with his intentions.

“ _What happens now_?” Harry could barely see over the top of the thick tail, and was nervous about his prospects if he tried to climb over it and run.

“ _Well, it seems I have a use for you in translating for me, how could I let a little speaker slip through my fingers… or coils as it may be?”_ Voldemort hissed into Harry’s ear, strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him to stand on the highest part of the tail. Harry found himself caged in Voldemort’s arms with the Dark Lord’s chest and one of Nagini’s coils pressing against his back.

His heart raced and he was sure he let out a squeak - sure, he had a better view of the graveyard and a possible escape route… if he ignored the fact that he had no wand and was quite literally in Voldemort’s clutches.

“ _Speak…”_

“As you can see, Harry has accepted. Today our triumphs reach new heights, while the Ministry and Albus Dumbledore remain clueless. The village beyond is-” Harry stopped, feeling sick at the words he was being asked to say, Voldemort’s grip became tighter in warning, “Little Hangleton, all muggles. Let us take back the night, my friends, for Magic is Might!”

“ **Magic is Might**!” the Death Eaters repeated back in an excited shout.

One arm still holding Harry tight to him, Voldemort led the charge out of the gates, far away from Harry’s possible method of escape, his yew wand brandished in the other hand as they descended upon the unsuspecting village and chaos broke out.

~

_26th June 1995_

A young Auror recruit vomited violently into a hedge. Albus ignored him as he looked at the grim state that Little Hangleton was in. The village was all but a smoking ruin decorated with the remains of its occupants. It was horrific, but just one more scene to add to many other scenes like this one that Albus Dumbledore had seen in his time. He held the Elder Wand tightly as he pressed onwards, following the trail of destruction in hopes of finding a clue as to where the perpetrators had been, and might have gone afterwards.

Still standing on the hill above the village was the manor house that Albus knew had once belonged to Voldemort’s father, The Riddle House. He doubted that the man was hiding there, but would check there after they were done in the village.

“Spread out,” called the Head Auror on the scene, Kingsley Shacklebolt, “If you find any survivors, portkey straight to St Mungo’s with them.”

“Aye, Sir,” replied most of the Aurors as they paired off and made their way from building to building, using _Homenum Revelio_ to check for signs of life.

Albus left them to it and instead headed towards a site that seemed relatively untouched. The road leading to the cemetery was not charred. He walked swiftly towards it and the closer he got, the more he could feel the residue of dark magic in the air - clearly, a ritual had taken place nearby.

He searched methodically, noting the high number of gravestones that were knocked down. The signs of spellfire were clear, and then he found a perfect circle of scorched earth. The grave next to it: Tom Riddle Sr. Pained, Albus closed his eyes at the confirmation of Voldemort’s return, as if the Dark Mark hanging over the town and the wreckage was not enough to indicate it. The ground was saturated in whatever cursed ritual had been used to bring the Dark Lord back, nothing would ever grow there again.

He cast a few spells, trying to ascertain further detail, when he spotted a glowing object in his peripheral vision. He walked towards it and, if possible, his face became grimmer. If nothing else, his age was now reflected in his face.

“ _Expecto Patronum_. Kingsley, come to the cemetery, I’ve found Diggory’s son… and the triwizard cup trophy.” Albus sent off the patronus message and cast a preservation spell over Cedric and the cup, though poor Cedric had already been there for at least 48 hours, and the preservation charm would only stop him decomposing further at this point.

Albus stood sentinel over the site for a few minutes until Kingsley arrived with another auror in tow. Their faces were as grim as his own at the sight of the dead boy, no one wanted to be the one to return to the ministry and deliver the news to Mr and Mrs Diggory that their son was dead.

“Alright, we’ll take him from here. I suppose this is the cup that Crouch interfered with?” Kingsley sighed, conjuring a stretcher and attaching to it a clip that they would turn into a portkey when they were ready to leave.

“Yes, I imagine it is, Harry and Cedric must have grabbed it at the same time. No signs of Harry yet.” Albus confirmed, recalling the brief interrogation they’d managed when Barty Crouch Jr, a Death Eater who had been impersonating Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody had run out of polyjuice potion. Sadly, the man had refused to tell them much until Snape had dosed him with veritaserum, and then the session had been cut short by Minister Fudge’s interference… the damned man had brought a Dementor in for ‘his protection’, and the creature had sucked out Crouch’s soul before anyone knew what was happening. Their only source of information. The Aurors and Press had not been impressed to learn that when the Boy-Who-Lived and the other Hogwarts Champion were both still missing.

“Dawlish, take the cup and Cedric back to the Ministry now for evaluation, then contact the Diggory family. I’ll stay here with Albus and continue to investigate.” Kingsley ordered, the other Auror nodded and followed his orders. He disappeared moments later with the evidence.

Kingsley sighed, “So, Albus, what’s your theory? Be honest with me.”

Albus walked him back to the ritual site, and let Kingsley examine it before speaking.

“I think the Dark Lord Voldemort has been resurrected, and I think Harry was used in the ritual somehow. We know from Crouch that the Dark Mark became active again that night, and there’s enough residue in the area to capture the magical signature for your report, I think,” Albus explained, “After the ritual, I suppose the Dark Lord must have summoned his followers who still walk free, and then… Celebrated. I’m sure you recall the events of the Quidditch World Cup. I imagine the same individuals were involved, only they took it further and managed to destroy the whole village on Voldemort’s orders. Have your Aurors found any survivors yet?”

“No. Not yet. Albus, look at this.” Kingsley knelt by Tom Riddle Sr’s grave and aimed his wand, which was lit with the _Lumos_ charm, towards the very base of the grave - there were fibres of something, and dark smudges along the base of the statue.

“It can’t be…” Albus murmured. He conjured two small vials, put the fibres in one, and used a spell to extract the liquid that had splashed on the stone. Kingsley remained quiet while Albus used diagnostic charms on the two vials, determining the fibres to be consistent with conjured rope, while the other was definitely human blood.

“Is there anyone in the ministry that can identify a blood sample this small?” Albus asked, though he suspected already that it may have come from Harry. The only clue to his presence.

“Hm, it’s worth a try… I’ll submit it for analysis.” Kingsley eyed the bottles, accepting both and putting them into an extendable pouch on his belt intended for small pieces of evidence. “Do you think there’s anything else here, or shall we move on?”

Albus sighed and turned on the spot to check for anything else, eyes sweeping over crushed flower beds and the scorched earth again. “No, I think we’re done, thank you Auror Shacklebolt. I suggest we check the manor house next.”

The man nodded his agreement and they walked in companionable silence up the hill. They had barely stepped out of the cemetery when Kingsley held up his hand to signal Albus to stop. He was looking oddly at a rock on the ground.

“Don’t you think this looks out of place?” Kingsley asked Albus, who stepped closer to inspect the rock in question. It was about the size of a fist, completely white and seemed smooth to the eye, no obvious jagged edges. Carefully, Albus checked it for any latent charms or curses, and then picked it up.

“It’s not a rock,” Albus told him, astounded, “It’s a scale.”

They looked at each other, and both were thinking the same thing: What sort of creature had Voldemort had with him that would leave such a large scale behind?

~

_24 hours previously..._

Voldemort was finally asleep, it seemed. The Dark Lord had at first seemed to retain a human mind, but the longer he was awake, Harry noticed that the man’s instincts and actions were… more animal than human. Harry had witnessed pure devastation on the village, he was too powerless to do anything other than scream and struggle and sob for the muggle’s fates as the Death Eaters crucio’d and fiendfyre’d their way through home after home. Some of them got more creative. Voldemort in particular got lost in the bloodlust at one point and used his teeth (and venom, who would have guessed?) to kill. Harry could still smell the blood and gore, he knew it was smeared on him as well.

Harry was past hysterical, he was numb. Though in his numbness, he was glad the whole episode was over for now. There was a fire going nearby, and Nagini was curled up by Voldemort’s head. The warmth was soothing, Harry had to admit, though he was nearly lost in Voldemort’s coils. He hadn’t dared move yet, though this would probably be the only chance he’d get to try to walk away.

He didn’t know if it was the sleep deprivation, the shock, or something else, but Hogwarts seemed to be far away and a long time ago. The Triwizard Tournament, which he’d been so stressed about, seemed trivial. He’d spent his time since portkeying into this new life translating parseltongue, being held by the man-serpent who had killed his parents, and witnessing murder after murder. He’d not even really registered the fact that the Death Eaters had begun to pay homage to him as well as Voldemort, as if they were one and the same before they disapparated. Returned to their families. Something Harry would probably never do.

Harry shuddered and looked at the sleeping face of his abductor - because there really was no other way to describe him now - it did little to comfort him. Although, bizarrely, Harry recalled the way those hands as he spotted them curled against his chest - so large, so cold and strange and dangerous those hands that had roved over the new, bare scaled flesh of Voldemort’s form, and the way he had been lifted so easily and held so securely by them to his firm chest.

Harry couldn’t shake the thoughts easily, but put them down to being touch starved from the tender treatment the Dursley’s had always given him. Hell, the first time Hermione had hugged him, he‘d thought he was going to pass out. Voldemort shifted in his sleep and the coils rubbed over Harry, looser now than before.

Carefully, Harry stood, barely breathing at his luck. He would have to risk partially leaning on the coils at least to climb over them, tall as they were, but it was his best option. Somehow, he hadn’t lost his glasses in the chaos earlier, and he’d had plenty of time to adjust to the low light of the room (somewhere between a lounge and a private study in decor), so he mapped out how he could fall most safely to avoid making more noise than necessary.

He sucked in a deep breath, put his hands on the thick tail and pushed off the floor, jumping over the scales like he would a low fence. It wasn’t perfect, but he rolled with the impact as intended, stopping near the door without knocking anything over. He went still, and watched Voldemort and Nagini for any signs of further movement. Wormtail had left with the other Death Eaters, and he had no clue if or when the man would be back to this house (a distant dream from before his fourth year reminded him that Wormtail had stayed in this place with Voldemort before).

After a full minute of no unusual movement from the snake pile by the fire, Harry felt safe enough to get up, utilizing his skills of sneaking to the maximum - from the days when he’d have to wait until the Dursleys were asleep long enough to steal food from the fridge, to the days when he was sneaking about Hogwarts at night, he’d always needed to be light on his feet - he got to the door which was ajar, and pushed it open just enough to squeeze through, holding his breath all the while.

Success! He was out of that room and into an unfamiliar hallway, a staircase leading both up and down nearby. Harry had no idea if he was on the first floor, second floor, or further, so taking light steps still, he carefully made his way to the steps, picking to go down rather than up. Each step, he silently begged the floor not to creak. He wished for his wand, if only to perform illegal underage magic so someone would come and find him, but he made do with being as stealthy as possible.

Magic smiled upon him, they had only been one floor up from the ground floor, and there was a door to the outside world only steps away from him. Harry’s heart all but stopped in his chest, he reached out and hurried to it, fumbled with the doorknob but… It was locked.

 _Locked_.

He pushed, he pulled, he twisted. It was no use. Hysteria rose up in him again, Harry shoved his fist into his mouth to stop the scream bubbling up within him. He panicked for a second, then turned away from the blocked exit and started to methodically check every window and every door - surely, there would be **one** that was still open? If he had to, he would smash one and run as fast as he could, but he had no idea how far he would get on foot before Voldemort caught up with him. He’d already seen that he was incredibly fast, he’d watched in great detail all the ways Voldemort could dismember and torture and kill.

Perhaps if he did get caught running, he could purposely get that venom of Voldemort’s into his blood somehow, that would be one of the quicker deaths.

There was a door to the world beyond in the kitchen. Harry pushed against it, it rattled in the doorframe and though it was locked, it seemed fairly weak. Harry threw himself against it and heard it creak in protest. The noise was going to wake the Dark Lord, but Harry tried again, throwing himself against it again. Some of the wood splintered loudly, Harry froze. The floor above groaned under the weight of Voldemort’s shifting body, then-

~

“ _Nagini? Harry?_ ” Voldemort murmured, tongue flicking out and confirming Nagini’s scent right next to him. The sound which had woken him sounded again from somewhere below, a thumping sound, more like… fists on wood rather than a body slamming…

Wait.

Voldemort rose from his sleepiness quickly, he distanced himself from the distracting heat of the fireplace and ripped the door from its frame as he threw himself into the hallway, tail thumping behind him down the narrow corridor he barely fit in.

“ _Harry!_ ” He hissed furiously, dragging himself along with his unnaturally long arms in his haste. He tasted the air and headed straight to the kitchen where Harry’s efforts had become fervent, the scent of fresh blood was on the air mingling with the hours-old blood from the raid, and he knew his human had injured himself trying to get out.

Voldemort squeezed through the doorway and grabbed the little wizard, turning him away from the door he’d been pounding on and pinning him against it with one hand on the boy’s chest instead. Harry was crying, he noticed, and leaned close to lick the salty tears off of his face, which made the boy stop crying instantly somehow.

“ _L-let,”_ Harry sniffled, “ _G- what are you doing?”_

Voldemort’s slitted nostrils flared, his face nuzzled Harry’s own before he drew back a little to gather up Harry’s hands in his own. The little wizard’s hands and arms were streaked with blood and splinters, Voldemort hissed in displeasure and called forth his magic to heal Harry for the second time in less than 24 hours. The splinters pushed out of Harry’s skin and floated down to the floor as the skin knitted back together and swollen bruised knuckles reverted to a healthier colour again. Voldemort didn’t bother cleaning the blood away, he liked the smell now that Harry was healed.

“ _Why do you want to leave me so badly, Harry? Did you not agree to translate for me? To stay with me?_ ” Voldemort questioned, still holding Harry’s hands in his own. Harry seemed stuck for words, a keening noise left his throat when Voldemort pulled him away from the door to hold him closer possessively. “ _You’re mine now, my own little speaker, yes?_ ”

“ _I have no idea why you want to keep me other than for translating. What I agreed to before… I am concerned that something went wrong with the ritual you performed. I heard that you were scary before you killed my parents, but I’d never heard you were anything like this, you’re almost like a Naga or something. Let me go so I can research?”_ Harry tried, using parseltongue even though Voldemort could understand English too.

“ _I have books here in plentiful quantities. Come now, little one, I thought we were doing so well - we were transcendent on the battlefield - you, me, Nagini - how they trembled before us as we conquered, how my followers worship us now more than ever before. You can’t tell me that you didn’t enjoy at least some of that, Harry_ _,_ _”_ Voldemort hissed to him, almost cradling Harry in his arms now.

“ _That was no battlefield, it was a massacre of muggles who had no chance to fight back. There is no glory in indiscriminate murder! Slaughter!”_ Harry protested and began to struggle in his arms, to no avail.

“ _You do not deny that you_ _ **liked**_ _it, Harry.”_ Voldemort murmured, sniffing Harry yet again.

“ _Because it is preposterous and sickening to enjoy something like that, which only a… a monster could enjoy_ _,_ _”_ Harry spat at the Dark Lord, pushing hard against Voldemort’s chest and breaking free of his grip.

“ _Monster, hm? If that is how you see me, perhaps that is how I should act?”_ Voldemort asked in a low, threatening tone, looming over Harry as far as the ceiling would allow. “ _I have not harmed you, I have healed you and kept you safe, warm even, given you a much craved position at my side, but alas a monster I am by your own admission... what horrific things must be in store for you now.”_

Harry paled while Voldemort sneered at the obvious fear, internally frustrated by the wizard’s obstinance and lack of acceptance. He’d felt a kinship with the boy who was once prophesied to defeat him. iÍn fact though, the boy had defeated him more than once by now, there was no reason to linger on that which had likely been fulfilled already.

Voldemort grabbed Harry by his arm and dragged him out of the kitchen with him, descending below the ground level of the house to a basement, where he easily conjured a large cage, large enough to keep Harry in. Though he was angry with him, he also conjured a mattress and thin blanket, and a bucket for… well, that which would normally be vanished by spells, if only Harry could prove himself trustworthy.

“ _Please, I’ll stay with you, with Nagini upstairs, I won’t try to escape again_ _,_ _”_ Harry tried to plead with Voldemort, who ignored his words, knowing that they were only being said to placate him. He lifted Harry into the cage with an expression of… mourning, perhaps? An odd mix of regret and yearning.

“ _Wormtail should return later today, I’ll have him bring you food, via imperius if I have to, and if you can eventually truly see that you are better at my side than anywhere else… perhaps I will be able to let you out of that cage_.” Voldemort hesitated as he turned to leave, enchanted by those green eyes full of tears, but the cold of the basement was sinking into his scales and he closed the cage, leaving Harry behind.

“ _Please! Wait! Come back_ -”

~

_26th June 1995_

The two men were quiet as they approached The Riddle House, they had both felt the muggle-repelling, intruder, anti-apparition, anti-portkey, and locking wards intended not only to keep people out, but also to keep something **in**. If Voldemort was indeed in residence here, they would have to be careful about how they broke in so Albus and Kingsley worked on convincing the wards to accept them as if they were meant to be there rather than breaking the wards, which would alert the ward-caster straight away.

Success! The door clicked open and they stepped into a room which was more wreckage than anything else, it seemed out of place compared to the sorts of places Voldemort had been known to stay in the previous war - places of extreme opulence, where both house-elves and wizards worked to make everything perfect for the Dark Lord. Something was wrong with the picture they were putting together.

They stepped into an equally wrecked hallway, wands extended in front of them both. There was a sound of tapping in a room beyond, so they cast silencing charms on themselves and the floor around them as they crept forward. Albus went in front and looked into the room, spotting a man he’d not seen in years: Peter Pettigrew. He was preparing some sort of gruel or meal. Again something that seemed too… out of the ordinary - where were the lavish steaks, fresh vegetables, expensive sweets? The house, though large, so far was more like a hovel.

Albus turned back to Kingsley and signalled for him to wait while he went forwards behind Pettigrew, he stunned the incompetant man from behind and caught him with a _mobilicorpus_ spell, leaving him floating next to Albus. Kingsley came forward then, and started investigating what the man had actually been making. As suspected, it was some sort of barely nutritious broth, not something that anyone who had a choice would eat.

While there was no other activity in the house, they took advantage of the quiet moment to tie up Pettigrew and silence him, waking him up only to use Legilimency on him. Kingsley guarded the exits while Albus knelt on the floor next to their captive to look into his mind.

“Legilimens,” Albus cast quietly.

Kingsley meanwhile cast the charm to reveal how many humans were in their immediate vicinity. In the makeshift kitchen were three as expected, one below them somewhere, and an odd reading for above, like… half a person. He frowned to himself but settled with watching the stairs rather than trying any further charms, in case they were detected.

“Kingsley, here. Stupefy.” Albus knocked Pettigrew back out and Kingsley moved to his side, attaching a portkey to Pettigrew for later when they left. The older wizard was looking disturbed, and patted Kinglsey on the shoulder - to calm himself or the auror, who knew?

“Harry is being kept below, in some sort of cage,” Albus told Kingsley in a low voice, barely more than a whisper, “But we will have to be careful with his extraction, I’ve seen… Voldemort is **not** quite human anymore, he’s part snake, that scale we found came from the Dark Lord.”

His words were urgent: “Albus, I sensed a being upstairs with the spell, what if he comes down? We need backup.”

“No time,” Albus whispered back, “Let’s go.”

Kingsley looked frustrated but followed Albus’ lead, backing him up as he navigated through the dim hall to the staircase which led downwards to an even darker basement area. There was a hissing noise, almost taunting, which made them freeze, but when they stepped down and used lumos to look around, there he was: Harry Potter in a cage, streaked with dry blood and looking gaunt, maybe a little crazed. His expression changed from cruel to confused and elated when he realised that they were not Pettigrew.

“Professor Dumbledore?” Harry asked, voice rasping, “How can you be here?”

“Shh, it’s okay, we’re going to get you out of here, stand back Harry,” Albus comforted him, voice firm as he raised his wand to open the cage.

“Wait, professor-”

It was too late. The cage was open, but it had triggered a hidden ward over the bars, a caterwauling charm which wailed so loudly both adults nearly dropped their wands as they covered their ears in pain. Harry curled up at the bottom of the cage with his hands over his ears, while Albus and Kingsley tried not to panic. In the end, making a split second decision, Albus managed an overpowered _finite_ to end the noise, but there was already a distant rumbling sound of something coming towards them. Albus didn’t hesitate to reach into the cage and grab Harry by the arm, hauling him out with surprising strength for someone of his age.

“Kingsley?” Albus said over his shoulder, and the man grunted back at him. He was already casting as quickly as he could to build a barrier of quickly interwoven wards to keep Voldemort back for a few precious seconds while Albus held onto Harry and started working on breaking the wards over the property from their position - to be able to apparate directly out.

Furious hissing reached their ears, words that only Harry could understand, and a pale creature clawed its way into view, vibrant red eyes fixed on the Auror and then onto Albus, fixating on the hand holding onto Harry’s arm. Harry looked stricken as Voldemort continued to hiss to him, coaxing him from the other side of the wall of spells Kingsley was continuing to work on, even with the Dark Lord just a few feet away.

Things got worse when Harry pulled out of Albus’ grip and actually tried to get to Voldemort, but the ward wall blocked both sides from passing. Albus followed Harry, grabbed onto the back of his third task tournament shirt at the least so that when he broke the anti-apparition ward, they could go immediately. Terrifyingly, Voldemort pressed right up against the wards on the other side of Harry, they both reached out as if to touch hands, separated only by an inch at most.

The distance was enough to infuriate the apparent Naga, who pulled out his wand and began to tear at the wards faster than Kingsley could put them up.

“Albus!” Kingsley yelled with urgency.

“Nearly… Got it!” Albus yelled back with triumph, Kingsley leapt at them both and pulled Harry against him hard, they apparated away as a group to the road just outside of the house. They were close enough to hear the roar of rage from the Dark Wizard turned creature inside the house.

“What about Pettigrew?” Kingsley panted as they started to walk quickly back towards the decimated village to warn the other aurors to leave, dragging an uncooperative, frantically hissing Harry with them.

“Voldemort might kill him for- for merlin’s sake, Harry, stupefy! Mobilicorpus! - For letting us past him, but its not safe to go back in there now. If he lives and we run across him again, then we’ll get him then,” Albus grunted, now directing Harry’s unconscious form with them as they approached the charred buildings. Kingsley went ahead and cast the sonorus charm on himself.

“ALL AURORS RETREAT TO BASE. I REPEAT, ALL TO BASE AT ONCE, EMERGENCY EVACUATE!” Kingsley’s voice boomed around the village, loud enough for everyone to hear - loud enough that perhaps it could be heard at the Riddle House. He ended the charm. “Let’s get out of here, Potter clearly needs medical attention… and perhaps two guards, flight risk…”

Albus nodded in agreement, he looked at his student sadly, wondering what had happened to make him want to stay with the monster at Riddle House so badly. What words had been hissed in his ear from that creature? What horrors had he seen?

Unconscious, Harry began to dream of a warm fire, shining scales circling around him, and red eyes promising him the world.

~

**Author's Note:**

> No I will not be accepting criticism at this time lmao. Actually, I would love some critique, let me know what you thought!~  
> Riddle~


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